197. OS 10: An Unexpected Visitor (Part 5)

Link to my new short story: Taking Care of You

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-taking-care-you



Link to my first e-novel; A Home for Meenakshi

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi


A blog for my VMs:

http://smitarsvms.blogspot.in/

Part 5

Buaji stared at Arnav with saucer-like eyes and Arnav stood there frozen, expecting Khushi to give a detailed account of everything he had done to her in the kitchen.

They were all saved by the opening music of the serial. “Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon?” a voice crooned.

“Arnavji, the serial,” Khushi yelped, taking hold of his arm and tugging him to sit by her on the sofa.

“The poor bitwaa!” Buaji exclaimed. “Why are you punishing him like this?”

Khushi looked at Buaji with astonished eyes. “Buaji, he wanted to see it. That is why he is here,” she reassured her Buaji. She turned to look at Arnav. “You really want to see it, don’t you? Please tell Buaji that I didn’t force you.”

“I—I would like to see the serial, Buaji,” Arnav muttered.

“Does your family know that you are here to see the serial with Khussi, bitwaa?” Buaji asked.

“Yes, Buaji, they know,” he smiled at her, understanding her perfectly.

“Is he in the nursery to take his family’s permission to visit us, Buaji?” Khushi frowned.

Buaji ignored her. She just said, “Babua, if you need a kadha for headache after you sit through it, let me know.”

“Yes, Buaji,” Arnav smiled.

The opening scene caught Khushi’s interest. She tugged at his arm and leaned forward.

“That’s the hero, that’s the hero,” she whispered to him.

He looked at the screen.

A handsome man in a blue shirt and a dark blue coat was sitting in his office staring at the laptop. Suddenly there was a flashback of him staring at the heroine, both of them covered in red colour.

“Arnavji, that is the heroine. She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Khushi asked softly.

Arnav turned his eyes from the screen to Khushi’s face. He said, “Yes, very.”

“Dekhiye, dekhiye,” Khushi urged.

He looked at the screen.

She was rubbing her eye and withdrew smartly when the hero stepped forward to poke her in the eye. The girl took her pooja thali and walked away, deaf to the hero’s plea.

The hero leaned back in his chair, looking like a pukka Devdas.

“He is missing the heroine,” Khushi explained. “Woh kya he, he has no one to scream at now that she has resigned.”

“I see,” Arnav smiled.

“Dekhiye,” Khushi urged.

The heroine pushed open the glass doors of the office and paused at the threshold.

Khushi drew in a deep breath of enjoyment. “Tonight something exciting will happen. We will get a real fight,” she clasped her hands to her chest.

Arnav bit back his smile and looked at the hero who looked as though someone had shot him. Both the characters seemed to sense the other’s presence.

“They are like that, Arnavji. When they are near, there is a gust of wind. It ruffles their hair. That is how we know that they sense each other,” Khushi explained the intricacies of suspending disbelief to him.

Arnav coughed to hide his amusement.

“Arnavji, does your hair fly in the wind when I come close to you?” she asked.

“Err..sorry, no,” Arnav choked.

She frowned in disappointment, only to perk up at the action on the screen.

The hero stood up and walked to a window in his office to spy on the heroine walking in. The oblivious heroine marched to her seat and sat down.

Suddenly there was a flashback of her in the red saree and the hero staring at her as though he had never seen a lady before.

“This is the red sari scene I told you about,” Khushi jumped up and down in excitement.

“I see,” he muttered. Had he looked so clueless when he had stared at Khushi in a red sari?

“This is the rain scene I told you about,” Khushi informed him in a low whisper.

He looked up to see the drenched couple look at each other, captivated, lost.

The heroine lifted her head to see the hero staring at her. She became still as a statue in shock. Then she almost fell off her chair trying to stand up.

Rabba Ve played in the background.

There was a conversation between the heroine and an office boy. The heroine told him that she had come for her belongings.

The hero summoned the heroine, “Come to my cabin. I want to talk to you.”

Khushi leaned against Arnav’s arm to confide, “She won’t obey him. Do you know who she is? Jhansi ki rani he woh.”

Arnav smiled.

Khushi’s belief in her heroine was justified.

She said to the office boy, “Please show me the storeroom.” Ignoring the fuming man, she walked out of the room.

The camera focused on the furious face of the hero.

“See, I told you. He is a machine of ghussa. That is all he knows to do. Listen to the background music, Arnavji. It sounds like one from a horror movie, doesn’t it? It suits him, Laad Governor kahin ka,” Khushi said. “Mothers across India must be sending their children to bed by saying, beta so jaa. Nahi to Laad Governor aa jayega.”

Arnav burst out laughing.

“He is walking,” Khushi said. "No, not walking, marching.”

Arnav looked at the screen. The hero was following the heroine to the store room.

“O ooo o oooo,” Khushi sang with the hero’s angry tune.

Suddenly the picture of a bottle of Horlicks came on screen to be followed by three other advertisements.

Khushi sighed, “The serial is supposed to be for thirty minutes, lekin we get ten minutes of Washing Powder Nirma and Horlicks, trailers of other serials, car ads etc.”

Arnav nodded his head in sympathy.

The hero entered the store to find the heroine perched on a stool, reaching for an idol.

“That’s her Devi Maiyya,” Khushi told Arnav. “I have one too, just like this.”

He nodded.

They looked at the screen.

“Tum apne aap ko samajhthi kya ho?” the hero asked, his eyes spitting fury.

The heroine turned around to look at him, wobbling slightly on the stool. Suddenly she fell to the side, the idol dropping from her hands.

The hero made a flying tackle to save the idol. He landed on the heroine who had fallen on a sack of scrap.

They stared at each other.

“Rabba Ve,” Khushi sang in excitement.

Arnav looked at the screen and then at Khushi’s face and hid his laughter.

The camera focused on the hero’s face.

“Look, Arnavji. He is still ghooring at her in anger,” Khushi grimaced.

But Arnav, being a man, could see the anger slowly leaving the hero’s eyes. In fact, he looked like  a balloon that had suddenly lost the air filling it. From angry, his eyes turned lost, mesmerised by the heroine’s face at close quarters.

“How can he stare at her for so long without blinking?” Khushi wondered.

Arnav smiled.

The heroine turned her head to see if the hero had justified his nomenclature as hero by saving the idol.

Yes, the idol was safe in his hand.

The hero blinked at the side view of the heroine’s face.

She turned her head to look at him, uncertain, unsure.

“Chalo Maiyya ke bhawan, bhawan, bhawan,” her cell phone sang.

The hero and heroine woke up from the dream they were caught in. The hero got up and offered his hand to the heroine.

“She won’t take it, she won’t take it,” Khushi chanted.

True enough, she refused his help and got up.

“Now he will get angry again,” Khushi predicted. “Will he burn the store room with his third eye?” she wondered.

To Arnav’s eyes, the hero looked more disappointed than angry.

The heroine answered the phone.

“Aap?” she said in surprise.

 The hero looked very uncomfortable while she was speaking to some other man on the phone.

“This is the other man, the snake in the grass,” Khushi informed Arnav. “Dekhiye, see how the hero is getting angry at having to wait?”

The hero looked green with envy rather than red with anger.

As the heroine concluded her conversation, it was time for more advertisements.

“Phir se Complan, Horlicks!” Khushi sighed.

Arnav chuckled.

“Arnavji, do you think the hero likes the heroine?” Khushi asked.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“Then why is he shouting at her? Pyaar se do baat kar lete to kya ho jaata? He could write love poetry, a love letter. He could give her gifts. But all he does is shout at her about her aukat. Is this the way a man shows his love to a girl?” Khushi asked.

Arnav laughed at himself. “Each man has his own way,” Arnav said softly. After all, he was siting and watching a serial to woo his girl, wasn’t he?

“Don’t you know anything else but running away?” the monster screamed as the heroine tried to scurry away. “Waise to tumhara muh kabhi band nahi rehta, ab kyon tala laga hua he?” he asked.

“Lo phir se shuru ho gaya,” Khushi sighed. “Sachi, Arnavji. If I were the girl, I would have given him one blow, kaan ke neeche. That would have taken care of all his anger.”

Arnav laughed.

“I was trying to talk to you and you walked away without listening to me. Mujhe aise badtameezi...” the hero was in his element.

The heroine walked away towards the door.

The furious hero rushed after her and slammed the door shut. The knob of the door fell to the floor.

“Now they are locked in. How will they get out?” Khushi worried.

Suddenly a child started doing gymnastics on screen to show how some health drink was helping her do somersaults.

Khushi buried her head in her hands. Arnav laughed at her disappointment at the advertisements.

“Jab mein tumse baat kar raha hoon to chup chaap khadi raho aur suno,” the dictator dictated to the back of the heroine.

The heroine stood silent, but her phone rang.

The hero’s eyes showed that he was nearing the end of his patience. He clenched his fists.

“Hello, Jiji,” the heroine spoke into the phone.

The hero grabbed the phone out of her hand and threw it on the floor to break it.

“What does he think the phone is,  a coconut?” Khushi grimaced. “He is so badtameez. If I were his mother, I would,” she paused, grinding her teeth in helpless anger.

Arnav smiled.

“I told you I want to talk to you. Let me finish,” the hero hissed.

The heroine began to cry. Her tears silenced the hero. He stood looking at her, helpless.

“Ab kaho whatever you have to say. She is silent. Ro rahi he bichaari. And she is your captive audience. The door won’t open. You have made sure of that. Now start your speech. Why are you silent? Ab kya hua? Cat got your tongue?” Khushi asked the hero.

Arnav chuckled.

“Why is he staring at her like this?” Khushi frowned. “Hasn’t he seen tears before?”

Arnav looked at Khushi’s animated face.

The hero gave up terrorising the heroine and moved away, trying to call the office boy on his phone.

The heroine tried to push the door open.

“It won’t open,” the hero informed her. “Give up trying.”

The heroine ignored him and tried to push at the door.

“What an idiot she is,” Khushi muttered. “Why is she pushing the door shut? She should be pulling it open instead of pushing it.”

Arnav laughed in agreement.

The hero and heroine exchanged sharp words.

“I want to get out of here and I will get out of here,” the heroine informed the furious hero. She marched to a window protected by a grill and pulled the panels open. She stood staring at the grill in consternation.

“Didn’t she see the grill before opening the window?” Khushi asked. “Even I saw it.”

Arnav smiled.

Wind blew the heroine’s light dupatta off her shoulder. It flew in the air to fall on the hero, covering his face.

Khushi giggled. “He looks like  a mummy.”

Arnav smiled.

“Arnavji, all this happens only in serials,” Khushi said. “Aap ko pata he, last week my dupatta was blown off my neck. I ran after it and finally found it lying on a shrub. By the time I saved it from the thorns,  it had eight tears in it. Buaji gave it to me good and proper, her scoldings filled with Hai Re Nandkisore. And there was no Rabba Ve in the background when my dupatta floated in the wind,” she complained.

Arnav guffawed.

“Haan, now the heroine has remembered that she used to have  a piece of cloth around her neck!” Khushi discovered.

Arnav looked at the screen.

The girl was looking for her dupatta.

“There, look at her huge eyes. She is scared of the mummy!” Khushi commented.

Arnav smiled.

The hero pulled the thin, red cloth off his head. The heroine turned away modestly.

Khushi frowned.

The heroine covered her neck with her hand and looked back, hoping the hero would solve her fashion accident and return her dupatta to her.

“What is she fussing about?” Khushi asked. “Waise bhi she wears the dupatta coiled around her neck like Lord Shiva wears the serpent. It does not cover anything of value. Then why is she so shy now? What is so special about her neck that she has to hide it?”

Arnav’s eyes twinkled.

The hero walked up to the heroine holding the shawl out to her.

She stepped forward.

“You ullu!” Khushi castigated the heroine. “How can he return the dupatta if you keep running away?”

The hero approached her and handed over the dupatta. The heroine took it and covered her neck once more.

“You are fine now that your neck is covered? Very good,” Khushi shook her head at the heroine’s twisted sense of modesty.

The wind blew one end of the dupatta to cover the hero’s chest.

Khushi giggled. “They look like they are wearing one saree,” she laughed. Arnav laughed with her.

The hero and heroine stared at each other.

Khushi sang, “Rabba Ve....e...e...Rabba Ve...Rabba Ve...”

The screen went dark.

“It is over?” Khushi asked in disappointment.

“Looks like it,” Arnav murmured.

Khushi sighed. “Twenty minutes of the serial and ten minutes of advertisements.”

Arnav stood up.

“You are leaving?” Khushi asked in disappointment.

“I have some work left to finish, Khushi,” he murmured regretfully.

“Did you like the serial?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes,” he replied. “But I enjoyed the company more.”

Khushi thought about his statement for a moment. “You enjoyed watching it with me?” she asked for the sake of clarity.

“Yes,” he admitted.

A big smile bloomed on her face. “I too loved watching the serial with you. Woh kya he, I normally don’t have anyone to talk to, to share my thoughts. Will you come tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

Her face fell. “We won’t be able to watch it tomorrow,” she said regretfully.

“Why?” he asked.

“A boy is coming to see me at eight,” she sighed.

“See you? What for?” he asked frowning.

“To marry me,” Khushi grumbled. “Is he mad? Otherwise why would his family bring a proposal for me?”

Arnav stood with his mouth open, seeing all his plans to woo Khushi slowly bite the dust.